


OVER THE RAINBOW (working title)

by genyorins



Category: Goyo: Ang Batang Heneral (2018), Heneral Luna (2015), Heneral Luna (2015) RPF
Genre: ((thank u gracie)), A/N dis is u, Amnesia, Android!Mabini, Childhood Friends, Human!Aguinaldo, M/M, Mabini's wrist can project movies now watch out Apple Smartwatche, Masakit na ang kamay ko kakatype, Medical Student!Hilaria del Rosario, Multi, Robot!Josephine Bracken, Spaceship Crash, The Entirety of the Heneral Goon cast is this, Well - Freeform, car crash, hi i love her so much, humans are using tech to live longer, in the most cliche ways possible, like i dunno a, tragedyyyyy, walang mangga dito kasi post apocalyptic cyberpunk pak ganern
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-28
Updated: 2018-09-28
Packaged: 2019-07-18 13:09:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16119137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/genyorins/pseuds/genyorins
Summary: The world is transitioning towards a future where technology is becoming more and more integrated within society. In more recent years, such technology has been used to revive individuals by restoring them to their previous state- people near death ('ship crashes, etc). could have part of their memories transferred into a new body.Apolinario Mabini and Emilio Aguinaldo were just cruising through dark, wet, Manila streets.





	OVER THE RAINBOW (working title)

**Author's Note:**

> hellooo mga histo titas titos and kwek kweks 
> 
> i stuffed it w/ ur fav cliches @thisisgraciella on twitter  
> also dedicated to @ensaymaduhhh and at @durchhaliya for screaming with me about Mabinaldo thank you !!!! :>  
> This work is still in progress so revisions may be made later

Apolinario Mabini thought himself a logical man whose every thought was engineered to obey and serve the law. It was with this introspection that he could almost visualise his previous life before the cool implant that seared at his skin erased half his memories of it. He was sat in an economy seat, trying to fan himself from the heat- the plane was  _ too  _ hot,  _ too  _ cramped. The individual next to him sighed as he rolled towards Mabini’s face, the movie still playing, a deluge of bright colours that short-circuited his thoughts. He could make out a few fragmented people; the man he tracked down introduced it as a continuation of his fifth play. José Rizal- or Pepe, Mabini recalled faintly. 

 

He played a cameo in the film. Dressed in earthy colours, he was anything but technological. He kissed a fantastically augmented woman. Mabini himself would call her a robot, but there was something decidedly soulful in her gait. He’s seen enough films to know that the woman was Josephine Bracken. There were many like her. They gave up their distinctly human identity in the hopes of acquiring an everlasting perspective on the dereliction of the world. The curls on her face hid Pepe’s smirk as the screen fades to black and the final credits begin. Mabini shifted before reaching for the remote control. He turned it off and directed his attention towards the silence of the airplane. The engine whirred. Cities glared back at him with blatant inoffence like neurons lost in inky black sea. 

 

He didn’t know why he wanted to return to Manila. He just knew that he did. He knew he had a life there- a mother, a father, a friend who was overflowing with fame with the words that he wrote, another who campaigned in the streets and reminded him of the colour red. There was Antonio, whose last name he associated with the rippling moonlight, whose temper was an amalgamation of molten lava and insatiable want- and of course, there was love.

He tried so hard to remember. It was so difficult. He remembered sitting alone in glued-together coffee shops- some still reluctant to let androids, much less robots, to enter an establishment ‘designed for human consumption’- trying to make out the features that such warmth belonged to. And now, he was inclined to give up. Finding Pepe and Antonio were enough. He urged his arm’s display to show the last messages Pepe had sent him. Jubilance, promise. Pepe seemed eager enough to welcome Apolinario back to his ‘old habits’. Their conversations were brief. José went from laboratory to laboratory, clinic to clinic, and in the evenings spent hours walking with Josephine, lost in the dingy marketplaces looking for trinkets to fill their home and for good entertainment. Mabini was far too embarrassed to say that ever since the amnesia set in he was inclined to forget details.

So he went along with Pepe’s narrative. Simultaneously, the worry that he was not hallucinating about a lost love was cemented in the name  _ Miong _ .

 

\---

 

“So, how was the flight?” Pepe asked Mabini, who shrugged in response. He wheeled towards the curtains and started to draw them up, letting the sunset consume the room and colour it a dusky peach. “Okay,” Pepe bit his lip. What was there to talk about? Mabini was far more disconnected from his environment than what Pepe noticed before. José felt an urge to approach the man and ask him about his new augmentations that served to repair the scars he bore from the accident before remembering that Mabini  _ fled _ \- a signal Miong took as one that meant ‘ _ never contact me again’ _ . 

He could see part of the coldness that shrugged Miong away. He’d always thought of Mabini as the stone faced scholar who wouldn’t bat a singular eyelash at the most amorous displays of emotion. Miong’s arrival and his tolerance and natural compatibility with this manner of communication meant that they were almost inseparable. José had always felt as though he and Andres  _ had  _ something- an immense mutual respect for each other and tension he found difficult to pinpoint. Then again, whatever progress they had made was ultimately stopped by Andres and Gregoria’s relationship that bloomed in the spring and Josephine strolling into his life. Miong always had Hilaria; Pole soon had Miong- and Hilaria’s focus on her medical degree in the South made communication difficult. 

Pole was the last person Pepe expected to have a  _ person to love. _ . 

 

“Thank you, José,” Apolinario started, his body turned towards the Manila skyline, his eyebrows furrowed in concentration. 

Pepe laughed. “You should’ve contacted me earlier.” 

“I tried.” 

Cold. Again. Pepe internalised the incoming sigh that he was going to direct towards Mabini. He tried.  _ Well,  _ Pepe thought,  _ I’m going to have to try harder. _

“Miong misses you,” he leant on his right foot in order to gauge Mabini’s reaction better. “I mean- I haven’t talked to him in so long because he’s as emotional as a-” he bites his tongue to avoid saying  _ ‘you’ _ , “-as wet concrete. Which could mean two things.” 

Mabini’s breath caught in his throat. Of course. Miong. He clenched his fists, trying to hide them underneath the bundled blanket. He could not remember a singular detail about the man. The dredges of his brain eagerly responded with affection, which contrasted with the ache of the logic governing his android facets. Pepe’s fragmented narrative littered signs that lead to the chilling conclusion that he might’ve left his previously rich and colourful life in favour of living the sterilised life in discoloured American cities as an author. 

 

“I’m tired, Pepe,” Mabini whispered at last. 

“Of course. You must be jet lagged.” 


End file.
